Russian Romeo
by AirborneGirl
Summary: Something happened in Russia. But will if destruct them or finally bring them together? Oneshot. Songfic.


**Russian Romeo**

**AN**: Taking a break for a while from my continuing story "Once a Marine". Don't worry, I'll pick it up again soon, jus don't feel like it now. I've written this story some time agon and forgot it even existed until I stumbled upon it recently. After reading it, I decided it was good enough to publish it. In one go. Enjoy!

**AN II:** Normally I'm not too fond of song fics, but this song's so appropriate that the story just formed itself around it. Now I have to let it write itself to get it out of my system. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: The song is "Romeo and Juliet" by Dire Straits. Don't own the lyrics. And no, I don't own the characters of JAG either, as you all know.

**Spoliers**: Happens after Gypsy Eyes.

_Harm's POV _

It had been there from the very start. The tension between us. So thick, so obvious that nobody had any other choice than to ignore it. And so did we; the two stars in this play. From the moment I'd met her, Major Sarah MacKenzie, I, Lieutenant Commander Harmon Rabb Jr. decided to stick my head in the sand and refuse to let my true colors show. And she did quite the same in regards to me. We were friends, coworkers and partners, that's all. Period.

We kept playing this game right up until she accompanied me to Russia in my endless quest to find my MIA dad. She was there for me when all others would have long since given up, being my interpreter, my guide, my only link with my mental health.

And when the truth had come out, so less satisfactory than I'd hoped, she'd been there for me again. In a way we now both ignore, on top of all the already suppressed feelings. We're friends, coworkers and partners, that's all. Remember?

To mention it out loud would mean to put our entire relationship as it now exists on the line. Neither one of us is all too sure about what would be left if we did. So neither of us ever spoke about it again and, as a matter of fact, we still don't. We don't glance, don't linger, don't joke, probably for as long as it takes for us to actually convince ourselves it hasn't happened in the first place. Though I'm pretty sure it won't work, not now, not ever.

I mean, how can I forget? Forget the way it felt to be kissing her? How our bodies had reacted to the other one, how perfectly we seemed to fit together?

We forget because we have to, I guess. Because the moment the hazy cloud lifted, we both knew it was a mistake. A way to forget for me. Pity-sex for her, because she felt so sorry for me. Nothing else.

We never apologized, simply let the silence hang in the air, all the unspoken words turning it into a thick, suffocating cloud. We could have, no, should have poked through it then and there, but from the start we were lost in the dark land of denial, without a compass. As soon as our eyes came back into focus, she let go of me and I turned away, feigning indifference to hide the loneliness hitting me all the harder.

Even more stupid…it happened again. Mac was there for me after I came back from informing mom and Frank. Mom took it hard. She wasn't surprised, but the sadness of knowing the truth about dad's imprisonment, his escape, his new life with another woman who obviously loved him and his death defending his Russian companion still enveloped her like a dark shroud. I guess for mom, it was her first time to actually acknowledge her loss too. And for the first time, I thank God for a man like Frank, comforting her (and even me) without passing judgment on his wife's first husband.

I left them in each other's care, in search of my own. I found it again, in Mac's arms, in her bedroom. I'm sure I heard her tell me she loved me in between her sobs of pleasure. I wiped the tear streaks away from her cheeks when we were finally completely satisfied. She fell asleep in my arms with a soft smile on her face, and for that one moment in time, I felt almost happy. Till the doubts came back. And what did I do? I left, again, like a thieve in the night, trying to avoid yet another awkward moment in the morning.

Nothing has happened since and neither of us ever brings it up.

Now, weeks after we came back, we're…friends, I guess. By lack of another more appropriate term. Things feel to twilight-zone to me. On the surface, we have this easygoing friendship, working together, taking lunches together, bantering like nothing has changed.

Everything has changed. For the truth has sunk in, at least it his, with me. I want more of her. I don't want pity-sex, even when it feels as good as it did both times. I don't care for just sex. Not with Sarah, that is. If I wanted just sex, I can pick up a willing blond in McMurphy's tonight, offer her a couple of drinks and get it over with.

But hell, I'm way too old for that kind of bull. I want it all. The love, the lovemaking, the commitment, the kids…and I know who I want it with…if only she'd want it too. I need to ask her, need to tell her, all that's been going on in my mind.

_Next evening..._

Why does it always rain when you just heard bad news? Who's the director of this horrible cliché movie drama I appear to be starring in?

Picture this: I'm currently sitting huddled in my SUV parked outside Mac's apartment building. The engine is already switched on so I can generate some heat. It's only 45 degrees outside, so I really do have an excuse to feel so chilled, but I know it's not the reason I have the central heating turned up all the way. Never before have I felt this cold from the inside. Unfortunately, this kind of cold doesn't let itself being chased away from just a car heating system.

I just got out of there, out of her apartment, brokenhearted. I got there baring flowers, baring my plans to have the talk with her. To take this…whatever it is we have, to the next level, to pack up and leave the land of pretending and denial, now that I've found the guiding light.

She let me in, not saying a word. Either she's wasn't willing or capable to meet me halfway. She didn't have to, I was more than ready to go the distance. So there I stood, putting it all on the line. My heart, my soul, my love for her to take. I told her about my future dreams, the part she plays in all of them… offered myself to her on a silver platter.

She froze, before she declined. Unable to meet my eyes, hugging her arms around her own upper body, she refused me. Told me she was afraid to believe me. That I was probably lying to myself, that it was just my loneliness speaking, the grief I felt after my recent discoveries. That she doesn't want to take the risk of getting her heart broken when I come to my senses. She doesn't realize, or doesn't care that in the process, she broke mine. Shattered it, tore at it and left me to bleed.

But what hurt the most, more than her trampling over my confession, was her whispered apology…she was sorry for sleeping with me. It shouldn't have happened and I shouldn't make a big deal out of it. Just…forget it ever happened. Don't make any more of it as it was. Pity-sex. Nothing more. Now be a good boy and just move on.

Before I even knew it, I was outside again, the roses I bought her forgotten in my left hand.

Move on, she said. How the f-ck am I supposed to do that, Sarah? Is that what you're doing, or trying to do? Tell me something, is it really that easy for you? Did it really mean that little? Whatever happened to your tears, your whispered confession of love to me? Don't try to tell me it was just the heat of the moment…I refuse to believe you could be that easy, Mac. Or that cheap. That you think so little of yourself, and me. Of us. Sorry, I stand corrected, there is no us.

I rev my engine unnecessary hard as I leave her street. I drive straight to McMurphy's, where I drown myself in a bottle of scotch before the bartender takes pity on me and calls me a taxi. At least I'm drunk enough to pass out without dreaming of her body next to mine. It's even worth the hangover.

_The next few days…_

We're not even friends any more. She's meticulously ignoring me, avoiding me. Whenever I enter a room she's already in, she turns her back on me or simply leaves. Whenever she spots me in a room she wants to enter, she changes her mind and turns around. Except for in the courtroom, where she can't escape my presence, she hasn't so much as glanced in my direction.

I'm beyond pain by now, there's too little left of my heart for her to break. I'm not trying to mend it either, I have no idea where to find the glue to put the pieces back together.

I'm just…numb, I guess. Living outside my body, so to speak, a mere spectator in my own life. A boring book I don't want to finish.

At this point, I'm seriously contemplating a relocation. Maybe I can go back to flying. Sure, there's probably not much of a career left there, as I'm already considered to be over the hill compared to the young rookies.

But if I can't go flying, there must be a place within the multitude of Naval airbases or ships I can go to? As long as it's far away from the torture that's become my life.

As I walk out of my office into the bullpen, headed for the Xerox-machine while reading about a new case I have to prepare, I'm not watching my step properly and subsequently end up bumping into a very familiar figure.

We both mumble apologies, even if she's still avoiding any eye-contact. Our bodies came into close contact, though, and the spark it obviously ignites in the both of us leaves an almost palpable tension in the air. Her whole body stiffens, whereas mine just goes rigid in one certain place. Let's just say I'm glad it's winter as the dress blues conceal more than the summer whites.

My mind is working overtime, while everything around me rushes past me without either of us taking any notice. We're hypnotized, in another time-zone, so much slower than the world outside of it. It's suffocating, frightening in it's intensity. Like being in the eye of a storm.

I have to try, say something, now. Before she'll back away. Somehow, a sound leaves my throat, coming together in an actual, normal, sentence. Even if my voice is anything but steady.

"We have to talk."

Before she can voice her protest, I continue. "McMurphy's, tonight, after work. I'll be waiting for you."

Maybe it's just my imagination, but she seems to be giving me just a slight nod. Does this mean she'll actually come? I can only hope so. I'll wait till closing time if I have to. If only I can find out what to say by then.

For the rest of the afternoon, I've been trying to figure out a way to make her understand where I'm coming from. I don't think I've read more than two pages (if that) of the file in front of me, my mind wandering. I have to make her see my point. That I truly am in love with her. That I do want to have the whole deal with her, go the whole nine yards and then some.

So after a while, listening to some Dire Straits music playing on the radio, I came up with a plan that's so risky it might backfire, but believe me, I'm willing to try anything. Only this time, if she decides to run, I won't be capable of running after her.

I sped home early after work today, changed into black pants and a white shirt, grabbed my guitar and now I'm waiting.

She's here! I'm nervous and relieved at the same time. Glad that she found the guts to come over, to hear me out and nervous for what I'm about to do. And her reaction to it. Behind her, Harriet comes in with Bud. I suppress a smile. She's nervous too, or else she wouldn't have brought a support group with her tonight. I'm surprised to say I'm okay with their presence. In fact, the bigger the audience tonight, the less chance of her escaping.

I nod at the manager, who agreed with my plan the moment I asked for his help. It certainly helps that all of us are very loyal regular customers, and very generous with the tips.

He puts a microphone on the small makeshift stage in the corner and turns the single spotlight on me. Quickly, he tests the mike and as he finds it in perfect working order, he nods his approval to me and disappears. It's all up to me now.

"Good evening everybody. I'm Harm Rabb and I'd like to dedicate the song I'm about to sing to a very special Marine…"

I strike the first cords and start to sing, thanking Mr. Knopfler in the process…

a love struck Romeo sings a street suss serenade  
laying everybody low with a love song that he made  
finds a convenient streetlight steps out of the shade  
says something like you and me babe how about it?

Juliet says hey it's Romeo you nearly gimme a heart attack  
he's underneath the window she's singing hey la my boyfriend's back  
you shouldn't come around here singing up at people like that  
anyway what you gonna do about it?

Juliet the dice were loaded from the start  
and I bet and you exploded in my heart  
and I forget I forget the movie song  
when you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong Juliet?

come up on different streets they both were streets of shame  
both dirty both mean yes and the dream was just the same  
and I dreamed your dream for you and now your dream is real  
how can you look at me as I was just another one of your deals?

when you can fall for chains of silver you can fall for chains of gold  
you can fall for pretty strangers and the promises they hold  
you promised me everything you promised me thick and thin  
now you just say oh Romeo yeah you know I used to have a scene with him

Juliet when we made love you used to cry  
you said I love you like the stars above I'll love you till I die  
there's a place for us you know the movie song  
when you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong?

I can't do the talk like they talk on the TV  
and I can't do a love song like the way its meant to be  
I can't do everything but I'd do anything for you  
I can't do anything except be in love with you

and all I do is miss you and the way we used to be  
all I do is keep the beat and bad company  
all I do is kiss you through the bars of a rhyme  
Julie I'd do the stars with you any time

Juliet when we made love you used to cry  
you said I love you like the stars above I'll love you till I die  
there's a place for us you know the movie song  
when you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong?

a love struck Romeo sings a streetsuss serenade  
laying everybody low with a love song that he made  
finds a convenient streetlight steps out of the shade  
says something like you and me babe how about it?

As I sing the last line, I look directly at her and she stares back with an intensity that burns more hot than the spotlight on stage. She's holding onto Harriet as if the other woman is a life-guard, which I guess she is.

The other people are yelling and clapping, but I'm not paying any attention to them, since it's not their approval I'm after.

All the while we maintain this eerie eye-contact, even when she lets go of Harriet and takes a step toward the stage, then another one, and another one, until she's right in front of me.

"I love you."

It's all I hear, all I need to hear. The next moment she's in my arms, coming into close contact with my body…and with the guitar. Damn, I forgot about the damn instrument.

She winces and smiles at the same time while I quickly discard of the offensive thing before wrapping her up in my embrace again, kissing the tears away.

The applause grows louder and louder, but the joy in my heart overpowers all sounds coming from the non-existent outside world as I just keep on kissing the woman I'm so head over heels in love with. Reveling in the fact she's kissing me back with equal gusto.

When we finally come up for some much, much needed air, I give her my warmest Flyboy grin and simply repeat the last line of the song.

"You and me, babe, how about it?"

She smiles back it me and nods.

"You and me, Flyboy."

She seals her promise with another kiss. I guess this means we're friends again?

THE END


End file.
